


sal have their reward

by dekkaisdefyinggravity



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Fluff and Crack, M/M, and sal owes yet more to hunk, cooking for your date is certified romantic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-26
Updated: 2017-05-26
Packaged: 2018-11-05 07:29:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11008788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dekkaisdefyinggravity/pseuds/dekkaisdefyinggravity
Summary: "The most important part of doing your duty to the empire? Documentation, documentation, documentation!" - Excerpt from the official Space Mall Cop orientation video.Varkon has bravely driven away the evil space pirates, preventing them from carrying out their evil deeds! Now, he must interview everyone who spoke to them, in order to assemble profiles and thus bring glory to the empire and ruin to those who would harm it.





	sal have their reward

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, the title's a les mis reference.

"They bought one of each of these boxed goods, and they took Kaltenacker."

Varkon scanned the items the shopkeeper gestured towards and saved them to the report before looking up in horror.

"Kaltenacker? Your... cow?" he clarified, his disgust at the criminals growing.

The shopkeeper nodded in the manner of the species his store was built to idolise, slowly and accompanied by a blink of the eye.

Varkon was overcome with emotion. "This theft will be answered, I promise you that!"

His sweeping gesture was interrupted as the shopkeeper laid a hand on his wrist.

"They took Kaltenacker ' _free with purchase'_ , which is an earth tradition of some importance. I will miss him, but," the shopkeeper shrugged expansively. "It is their way."

Varkon sighed and signed off section 3i of the report, wondering (not for the first time) at the culture which Lenie had become so enamoured with from the stories of his voyager-uncles.

* * *

Varkon held up the tab screen for inspection.

"Yes! I'm pretty sure that was it! Of course, that's not as important as the blade-"

He placed his hand on the unilu's top-shoulder.

"Now Ksee'la, you're thinking like a knife-merchant, not a pirate. It's understandable, of course, we officers of the law receive _special_ -" he thumped his chest with his fist for emphasis- "training in the art of detection. His pirate-cloth is of far greater importance than the nature of the blade, which he'll have received as a result of some wrongdoing, unremarkable in its own right." He nodded firmly.

The unilu's mouth twisted as he chewed over Varkon's reasoning, before nodding. Not everyone could understand these things as well as the officers of Zarkon's empire, but Varkon prided himself on his ability to make others see reason.

"Now, did he cause you or your merchandise to come to otherwise-avoidable harm or decay?"

* * *

 Sal swiped his claws through the glowchain attached to the tracker bracelet and watched as the glowchain deactivated. He stood up slowly, holding his hand out to help his indenture to her feet.

"You're becoming a stalwart young woman, Ex'rrrrl. Your beard will split any one of these days, I'm sure of it!" he said fondly.

She shuffled past with a click-grunt as Sal surveyed his store.

Who knew so much could change in less than a quintent? He felt a sense of purpose and respect like none he'd felt before, like his great aunts described feeling as soldiers of the empire. Food which his customers  _enjoyed_ , made only from the traditional pre-Destruction ingredients he had in stock? He had never thought it would be possible.

He sighed and closed his storage unit door, turning to leave.

"Oh!"

The mall cop, Varkon, was standing at his counter, tapping his claws against each other and looking ill at ease. At Sal's exclamation, he looked up.

Their eyes made contact, and Sal quickly glanced over the store, rubbing a hand over his forearm.

"Can I help you, officer?" he said.

Varkon cleared his throat with a rumble.

"As it would happen, I must question you about a  _space pirate_ in whose company you were recorded earlier this day," he announced. His claws were now tapping against the counter.

Sal reared back, coughing.

"Ex _cuse_ me?"

Varkon took a step back, removing his hands from the counter.

"Not that you are accused, in any way, of  _aiding_ these fiends! No, I believe you were misled or indeed victimised, perhaps even without knowing that this was the case, by the awful criminals."

Sal huffed.

More hesitant now, the way he often seemed when calling greetings as he arrived to work, Varkon said, "I have security camera footage of the pirates. Could you tell me if you recognise this individual?"

Sal walked towards him to squint at the tab he held up.

He gasped.

"That is  _not_ a pirate."

Varkon began to bluster, but Sal didn't hear him; the day's events ran through his head in high-colour. He felt a tear slip from his eye as he remembered how soon his chef had vanished, taking so much wisdom with him.

"If that boy, that  _genius_ truly works with pirates as you claim-" he paused for Varkon's indignant cough before continuing, apologetic. "Which I, of course, have no reason to doubt."

Varkon nodded seriously.

"If this is true? He must have gotten caught up in something bigger than himself, quite against his will. If you had seen him work, heard him talk, you would have no  _doubt_ of his goodness and wisdom."

Varkon had been nodding more and more vehemently as Sal spoke, and now sagely interjected.

"We see that kind of thing far too often. Only the intervention of the law and the firm guiding hand of the empire can put such a person on the right path, but I believe it can be done. I will add your assessment to the report." Sal recalled hearing Varkon say something similar to the ironwear dealer in the east wing of the mall, and reflected that few had such dedicated and strong principles.

As Varkon turned to leave, Sal felt a stirring in his chest.

"Wait!"

The officer turned back, lips pursed. Sal's stomach sank.

"I... You should eat one of his recipes. To understand his genius."

Varkon tilted his head consideringly. "I should probably finish this report."

"It's important to the report!" Varkon looked taken aback by this. "I mean... How can you write a profile of his character without a full understanding of who he is? You can finish the rest of the report here, right? On one of the food court tables?"

Varkon nodded a few times. "That makes sense. I'll just..." he pointed a thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the tables. Varkon took a few steps backwards, stumbled a little, and turned to proceed to the tables.

Sal himself turned to his cupboards, searching for those ingredients which chef had used for the number 43 meal. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly as he turned to the stove.

"Balance and care. Those are the most important things. If they're in conflict, care comes first," he muttered to himself. Chef was a genius, and Sal would honour what he had been taught.

* * *

 Varkon clicked the claws of his right hand together and twitched his ears as he wondered how to phrase the "recommended punishment" section of the report. It was difficult to recommend one thing for a  _group_ of criminals, especially when one was obviously so much less evil than the rest... But the justice system would sort that out once his character profiles were considered. Satisified with this conclusion, he was picking up the tab to start writing when a plate slid into his field of vision.

He blinked at it.

"What is this?" he asked, turning to peer up at Sal.

Sal was scratching his neck.

"It doesn't  _look_ like our food, but you'll understand when you taste it."

* * *

 He watched anxiously as Varkon picked up one of the meat-flaps, sniffed it, and placed it into his mouth. His eyes opened wider, and he set to eating the rest of the meal more quickly than Sal had ever seen a galra eat before today.

His eyes swam with pride as Varkon started to visibly  _enjoy his meal_ , and Sal once again swore that he would find his chef and ensure his return.

Varkon thumped his chest once when he had finished the plate.

"I see what you saw in your chef."

Sal nodded and opened his mouth to describe his genius once more, but stopped when Varkon held his hand out to continue.

"I see what you saw, and I also see what you  _achieved_. It's clear that you're right, this pirate-chef is a genius, but only someone as clearly noble and strong as you could have seen this and intervened, helping him to see the right path as you clearly did today."

Sal's chest swelled with pride and he chuffed a little.

Varkon seemed to almost blush at this reaction as he gathered his tablet together.

Sal stepped back and allowed him to pass.

"Will you return soon?" he asked, pulse beating almost as fast as it had earlier, when he began to learn the fundamentals of cooking.

Varkon made eye contact with him and held it as he said, "As soon as my duty allows me to."

Sal watched as he walked several more steps towards his scooter, parked at the edge of the food court, before turning back once more.

"I mean, I'm off at seven tomorrow?"

Sal picked up the empty plate and smiled down at it.

Half the mall away, atop his scooter, Varkon clutched his chest, feeling something he thought was similar to pride.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't _think_ any of the background aliens from this episode got names, so I just made some up haha
> 
> On tumblr at oysterish-sympathies!


End file.
